A Battle of Wills - A Romance
by Angles of Death
Summary: "Potter, get away from my sister this INSTANT!" Draco Malfoy had never been so angry in his entire life. He could not believe that his beloved sister, whom he had admired for so long, was speaking with his worst enemy. Harry/OC/Fleur. M rated for adult themes.
1. Not Your Average Obsession

**A Battle of Wills**

**Chapter 1: Not Your Average Obsession**

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The first time he noticed her was right after his sorting. Sitting down next to his euphorious housemates, Harry Potter was immediately assaulted with dozens of people shaking his hand, clapping on his back, or whooping in his direction.

"We got Potter! We got Potter!" The Weasley twins chanted.

He scanned the room as Dean Thomas and Lisa Turpin were sorted. The Hufflepuffs were still staring at him in all his fame and glory, the Ravenclaws were busy cheering for Turpin's arrival, and the Slytherins…

His eyes narrowed as he saw a familiar patch of platinum blonde hair. Draco Malfoy, the rude kid who had insulted Ron's heritage and proceeded to nearly fight with Harry on the train, sat at the long Slytherin table next to Vincent Crabbe.

Malfoy was chatting with someone, but it was not Crabbe. Instead, he was excitedly talking, with hand gestures and everything, to a slightly older girl. She had platinum blonde hair as well, which came down past her shoulders, it was sleek and straight and luxurious. Her icy blue eyes looked bored as she listened to Malfoy's incessant prattle.

Then she looked at him.

Harry's breath caught at his throat. He was only 11, but enough sneak peeks at the telly and Dudley's magazines had educated him on the basics of female appearance. Like the models, she had high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing eyes were almost angelic.

What was someone like her doing talking to Malfoy? Harry wondered.

With just the barest of smiles, she gazed at him for a quick second and then looked away. She rolled her eyes after Malfoy sniggered at his own joke, then turned to chat with a female friend nearby.

Harry's outward expression was neutral, but he felt a bit of a shiver run through him. Even compared to the whirlwind that had been his life over the past few weeks, this was a different sort of shiver.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

His attention was redirected to his new best friend who was soon sorted into Gryffindor. Cheering with everyone else, Harry clapped his mate on the back as they sat down together, all smiles. "Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley.

XXX

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the kid with red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Besides the unwanted attention, the first week of Hogwarts was magical. Harry was impressed by every class, especially Astronomy. He loved gazing at the stars and the planets. He enjoyed Herbology as much as Neville Longbottom did. Charms was enjoyable and exciting, as Professor Flitwick guided them through the basics of theory. Even History of Magic was interesting – at least to Harry. All the other students hated the ghost Professor Binns, but Harry did not care.

He was just glad to be away, far away from Privet Drive, studying magic, in the most amazing school in the world.

"Harry, I'm getting worried about you." Ron stated, as the two walked out of Transfiguration in the afternoon. "You're doing even better than bloody Granger!"

"I'm trying." Harry said with a smile. They had to turn a match into a needle, and there were only two students in the entire class who succeeded. One was a muggleborn girl with bushy brown hair named Hermione Granger. She was the quintessential bookworm, raising her hand and copying notes furiously at every class.

The other was Harry. He managed to turn the match into a needle even before Hermione did, and for this feat, Professor McGonagall awarded Gryffindor five points.

"Mate, I can respect that you want to earn good grades, but seriously, I don't think you want to end up like Granger. She's got no friends, she's kind of weird, and no one likes her except for the tea-."

Just then, Hermione brushed past them, her face in tears as she had apparently overheard them. "Hermione, wait!" Harry called, but she ignored them, running off with her books and her frizzled hair looking more unkempt than ever.

He sighed. "You're an idiot, Ron."

His best friend at least had the decency to look ashamed.

They turned the corner and ran into two older students – Ron nearly ran one of the girls over.

"Watch where you're going!" snarled Ron, but before he could continue, his mouth opened wide and no sound came out.

Wearing silk green robes, the two girls looked down condescendingly at the first years they had bumped into. They were from Slytherin, Gryffindor's eternal enemies.

"Red hair, freckles, and rude like a low-life scum." The blonde girl remarked. "You must be a Weasley."

She was the exact same girl that Harry had spied talking to Malfoy at the welcoming feast. Now seeing her close in person, Harry felt that same shiver rush through him, ten times over. From afar, Harry could tell she was beautiful, but in her presence, she had this icy, imperial aura that was both intimidating and extremely alluring.

Clenching his fist, Ron glared at the girl. "You bitch!" He drew his wand.

The girl smirked. "Try me, little Weasley. Your twin brothers tried to prank me last year and I put them in the hospital wing for two weeks. I believe Madame Pomfrey has already created a section dedicated to housing the morons of the Weasley family."

Harry was barely able to restrain his friend from going full savage.

"I'm sorry, ladies." Harry said to the two Slytherins. "We didn't mean offense."

Thankfully, her friend stepped in before she hexed them into pieces.

"Celine, these are first-year Gryffindors. They just started school a week ago. Give them a few weeks before you educate them." The brunette was pretty as well, but she had none of the same regality and aristocratic class that the blonde had. She had an amused smile, as if highly entertained by her friend's aggressive reaction. "Plus, don't you recognize him? This is the famous Harry Potter."

Harry felt heat in his face, as the blonde girl named Celine shifted her gaze towards him. She quirked an eyebrow, studying him with curiosity.

"I hear you've already made acquaintance with my little brother. He keeps going on and on about you. Nearly every one of his conversations begins and ends with what he is planning to do to you the next time he sees you, Potter." She finished with a snicker.

Taken aback, Harry did not know how to respond to this revelation. "... May I ask who your brother is?"

Just as she was about to respond, the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy echoed through the halls.

"Potter! Get away from my sister this INSTANT!"

Everyone's attention turned towards the newcomers – a familiar Slytherin first year flanked by his two ugly henchmen stomped towards them. However, Malfoy's attention was not on Harry, but rather on Celine.

"I believe that answers your question, Potter." The blonde girl quipped, before turning to face her little brother. "What do you want, my dear Draco?"

"Why are you speaking to Potter! I already told you that we. Are. Not. Friends!"

"So?" Celine grinned as her brunette friend started to laugh. "Just because you failed in befriending the famous Harry Potter, why does that prohibit me from speaking with your obsession?"

Ron's jaw dropped.

Turning beet red, which was remarkable given his pale skin, Draco began protesting furiously. "I AM NOT OBSESSED WITH HARRY POTTER!"

"Ever since he heard you were coming to Hogwarts, he's been obsessed with befriending you." Celine informed Harry. "You should have heard his fantasies of being best friends with the famous Harry Potter and 'ruling Hogwarts together' as Slytherin princes. Oh Merlin. Ella, I told you right?"

The brunette giggled. "I have never laughed so hard in my life."

Draco looked as if he was about to mutate into an angry dragon, but under his sister's withering gaze, he did not.

"Anyway, I'm done with this stupidity. Potter, it was nice to meet you. Weasley, don't even think about it."

Before the furious Malfoy or the dumbstruck Gryffindors could respond, Celine curtly pushed past them, with Ella immediately following behind, unable to contain her giggles.

"Malfoy, is there something you wanted to tell me?" Harry asked after regaining his senses.

"NO, POTTER! Fuck you and stay away from my sister!" screamed Malfoy as he stomped off with Crabbe and Goyle following, silent and stupid.

Ron and Harry could not stop laughing for the entire way down to the dining hall. After they had finally settled down, Ron turned to Harry with a goofy grin.

"She may be Malfoy's sister, and a complete bitch, but bloody hell is she _hot_."

Harry could only nod.

XXX

A/N: This story is written for my own amusement. Fleur will come around in later chapters. Also, review if you want faster updates.


	2. Not That Bean, Potter

**A Battle of Wills**

**Chapter 2: Not That Bean, Potter**

The good thing about having Ronald Weasley as your friend was that life was never boring. While he was nowhere as smart or studious as Harry was, he was still a constant source of humor and entertainment, providing some much-needed folly into the rollercoaster of Harry's life.

Potions was by far the worst. Professor Severus Snape _hated_ Harry and tormented him with all sorts of insults.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything, Mr. Potter," sneered Snape as he swooped around the class, like an overgrown bat, as the class struggled to create a simple potion to cure boils.

Draco Malfoy seemed eager to compensate for the public humiliation he suffered a few days earlier. "Professor, if you'll notice, he's using his _right _hand to stir the potion instead of his _left _hand, as you instructed us. It seems Potter not only knows nothing, but fails to follow instruction as well."

"Bugger off, Malfoy!" Ron defended.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Snape spoke softly, and then turned to Harry. "Potter, it seems you're using the incorrect…"

"With all due respect, sir, I disagree." Harry interrupted. "The textbook that you assigned to us, _Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger, advised that it is better to use your dominant hand for restorative potions."

Snape was livid, but unnervingly quiet. "How dare you interrupt and try to correct me?" He raised his wand and vanished the entirety of Harry's bubbling potion. "Fifty points from Gryffindor. And detention next week, Potter, for your idiocy and insufferableness."

The entire class gasped. Five points was a typical punishment for non-Slytherin students who were out of line in Snape's Potions class, but _fifty_? This was almost unheard of. It would bring Gryffindor's house points into negative territory.

Harry's stomach sank at what he had cost his house. He did not expect such a cruel reaction from the Potions professor. Nearby, not even Ron could manage a word of appeasement.

"What are you still doing here? Get out of my class this instant."

Scrambling to grab his bookbag and cauldron, Harry rushed out of the dungeon, while the Slytherins, led by Draco Malfoy, shrieked with laughter.

XXX

It was small comfort that Hermione Granger later came to talk to Harry. "For what it's worth, Harry, you're right. Every book I could find on the subject says that you should use your dominant hand."

He sighed. "Thanks Hermione. It's too late though, everyone hates me now, and I have detention with Snape next week."

"What's your punishment?"

"I have to help out the third-year Slytherins during their brewing of the Draught of Living Death." He replied bitterly. "Essentially, I have to be their personal slave while Snape walks around and insults me, my 'fame,' and my family."

Hermione winced. "Sorry to hear. At least you didn't get expelled."

A brief pause, and then they both burst into laughter. The two of them agreed that getting expelled from Hogwarts was far worse than anything else in the entire world.

XXX

As Harry walked to detention with Snape, he could not help but smile. He came from the Gryffindor's first flying lesson with Madame Hooch, and it could not have gone any better. After Neville fell off his broom prematurely, Malfoy stole his Remembrall and attempted to hide it. No one expected that Harry was such a good flier however – and after he saved the little glass ball from shattering, Professor McGonagall came out and took him to see Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Knock, knock.

"Potter." Snape's dead black eyes were the first to answer Harry. "If you so much as say _one _word out of line today, I will personally ensure you never see the castle of Hogwarts again."

"Understood, Professor."

As Snape walked him into the dungeon, the third-year Potions class gasped. Harry Potter, in detention?

"We have a troublemaker here, and his detention is to assist you with preparation and cleanup – chopping, slicing, shaving, washing. Whatever help you need, he will do as you tell him to."

It was a double Potions class with the third-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, and none of them looked as if they would go easy on Harry.

"Professor Snape." It was Celine Malfoy. "With all due respect, none of the 'assistants' you have brought in have been very helpful lately. Least of all, the Weasley twins." At this, half the class nodded. "While I have yet to see Mr. Potter's skills, I doubt it will be satisfactory."

Harry could not believe it. Just his dumb luck – he received detention because of one Malfoy, and now he had to suffer through an entire detention with another!

Professor Snape nodded. "Your concern is well noted, Miss Malfoy. Rest assured that I have warned Mr. Potter that if he does not help, he will be expelled."

The Slytherins chortled with glee, while some Ravenclaws had the decency to look sorry for Harry.

As the students set up their cauldrons, many asked him to fetch them materials from the Potions cabinet.

"Two infusions of wormwood, Potter."

"I need five valerian roots, brown only."

"Half a goat liver – no Potter, that's a sheep liver, are you daft?"

Running around the classroom, Harry began to seethe at the profound unfairness of the situation. While Professor Snape favored his Slytherins, the Malfoys, especially Celine, seemed to receive extraordinary preferential treatment. In fact, it was as if Snape bowed to every complaint and request that she could think of.

"Professor, Potter forgot to grind my Sophophorous bean." Celine complained at one point.

"Potter, five points from Gryffindor, and do grind Miss Malfoy's bean for her before I take off more."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir."

Seething with silent fury, Harry walked up to the female Malfoy's table and reached for the mortar and pestle, all the while ignoring her gaze. Then he noticed that the Sophophorous bean was already ground into a fine powder.

A slender, elegant hand covered Harry's, causing him to freeze.

"I don't need you to grind _that _bean, Mr. Potter." She half-murmured, running her fingers over his hand.

His breath catching at his throat, Harry stared directly into the mesmerizing depths of Celine's icy blue eyes and angelic face. Their faces were barely a foot apart as he stood, leaning over her desk, his face torn between anger and frustration and shock, while hers was the expression of perfect calm, with a half-smile.

Their hands touched for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

Then she smirked. "Don't get too excited there, Potter. I'm just toying with you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Malfoy." Harry responded, barely able to contain his fury, as he withdrew his hand from hers. "Please let me know if you need any additional help."

For the rest of the class, Celine Malfoy did not ask him for help once. But from time to time, he could feel her eyes on him in that aristocratic smirk, judging him, as he endured the constant insults and mockery from the students, Snape's rebukes, and the disgusting smell coming from twenty Draughts of Living Death brewing at the same time.

When detention finally ended, Harry left the dungeons without saying a word. He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing his indignation.

XXX

"How are ya, Harry?" The Weasley twins asked him later that evening in the Gryffindor common room. "First two weeks of school going well? We heard about the good news, congratulations on making the team!"

Harry smiled tiredly. "Thanks – and yeah, it's been okay."

Their expressions adopting that of concerned older brothers, Fred and George sat down next to either side of him. "Now now Harrykins, you must confide in us what is troubling you. We've heard about the detention, you know. Tough luck, mate, getting snagged by Snape this early in the year."

At this, Harry clenched his fist. "I can't stand how poorly he treats us, but how well he treats the Slytherins… especially her…"

"Who?"

"Malfoy."

The twins exchanged a look. A brief smile crossed Fred's face, before he quickly re-adopted the look of concern. "Celine Malfoy. She's a handful, that one. I don't think there's a single guy in our year who she has not physically harmed in some shape or form."

"And a few of the older ones, too. Of course, we probably deserved it, eh, Fred?" George grinned.

Harry recalled Celine's words. '_Your brothers tried to prank me last year and I put them in the hospital wing for two weeks.'_

"What happened?"

"Well, you see, the Malfoys are a rich and old pureblooded family. She receives these 'care' packages from her rich daddy, who by the way, you would not want to run into."

"So one day we're hanging out at the Owlery, and her owl – which is this beautiful black horned owl, comes flying through with a few 'care' packages. We switch those out for some of our own packages – that is, some of the lad magazines that we've ordered and a few… ah, 'adult'-themed toys that came as samples."

Fred chuckled. "You should have seen the look on her face when she opened her box with her girlfriends, expecting to find sweets, when instead a group of raunchy toys come out and start dancing around her. I've never seen her so pissed off. She literally started incinerating the toys on the spot."

"You see mate, she thinks she's this royal princess, too high-class to interact with us 'commoners.' There's no question the Malfoys have power, and plenty of it – but it doesn't give her the right to treat everyone like second-class citizens."

Then George's voice lowered. "But just so you know Harry, and you'll understand when you're older – there is not one bloke in the entire year who hasn't thought about what they might do to her if they ever got the chance. She might be our age, but she's heads and shoulders more attractive than almost every other chick here, including the older classes."

"Combined with her status as a rich pureblood, and the fact that she's bloody smart and powerful, makes her the most desirable but also the most unattainable girl here… again, you'll understand when you're older." Fred finished with a wink.

'_I don't need you to grind _that _bean, Potter.' _Harry thought about what Celine had said earlier, and blushed.

"Ho ho, looks like Harry might have a crush on Miss Malfoy as well!" George chortled.

"I most certainly do not. I hate her, and her idiot brother," seethed Harry, cursing the entire Malfoy clan in his mind and wishing they never existed.

"We're just joking." Fred smiled as he and George stood up. "Anyway, we have practice tomorrow morning, 6:00 sharp, don't be late or Wood will have you running more laps than Snape, heh."

That night, Harry replayed that scene over and over again in his mind, the one of Celine, looking right at him, with her lips slightly parted, her hand gently placed upon his. He could see her smirk in his mind. She was just toying with him, as if he were merely an amusement.

XXX


	3. Not From The Ground

**Omake: Harry is a sub**

Harry walked up to her, and kneeled on all fours.

She had heels on, four inches, maybe five. Her black leather dress was almost sinful to look at. It covered only the right places and left little else to imagination.

A crack through the air, and her whip thrashed on his back so hard he let out an earthly grunt in pain.

"Did you enjoy that, pet?" Celine asked, her smile equal parts loving and cruel. Her heels pressed against the small of his neck, cuffing his face to the ground, until he could only talk out of the side of his mouth.

"Ahh – ah – yes master, I did, please, again, please."

**A Battle of Wills**

**Chapter 3: Not From The Ground**

It was the first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

As Harry changed and stretched in the locker room, his mind was filled with the events that had happened over his first two months.

Not only was he doing better than everyone in his class – including Hermione, but also, his innate talent for flying had Oliver Wood excited that he would become the savior to the team's troubles the previous year. His friendship with Ron and Hermione was stronger than ever since the Halloween feast, when Professor Quirrell ran in screaming about a troll in the dungeons. After defeating the troll together, the three of them became fast friends.

Draco Malfoy became no more than a nuisance, as Harry realized that any response to the blonde boy's provocations could only result in further aggravation. When he challenged Harry to a midnight duel, he curtly declined. Ron looked as if he wanted to bash Malfoy's brains in right then and there.

As for the other Malfoy, he had almost entirely forgotten about her. Short of catching glimpses of her in the dining hall from time to time, she did not trouble his sleep like the first week. Between classwork, Quidditch practices, and visits to Hagrid's, Harry had little time to think about anything else.

It was November, and the weather had turned very cold. As the Gryffindor players changed into their scarlet robes, Oliver Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay men."

"And women." said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley. Alicia Spinnet giggled.

"The one we've all been waiting -" started George, but Wood quickly interrupted.

"Shut up, you two." Wood snapped, "I won't try to sugarcoat it for you all. Slytherin had an insane team last year. They demolished everyone. Ever since _she _came onboard."

The playful mood died instantly.

"Now, this doesn't mean we can't win. We're much better than we were last year – and especially with Harry..." he paused, as if looking for the right words to use. "...we've got a good shot at winning this."

Angelina Johnson took a deep breath, and nodded. "It'll be close, that's for sure." The rest of the team agreed half-heartedly.

"Let's roll, then."

A little surprised, Harry looked at their faces and could tell that despite their optimism during practice, something about this game was off. Something they were not telling him about.

"Who is 'she'?" Harry asked Fred quietly as they exited the locker rooms onto the pitch.

Fred shook his head. "You'll see soon enough." He mounted his broom and took off, and Harry followed.

"Here comes Gryffindor in scarlet and gold! Bell! Johnson! Spinnet! Weasley! Weasley! Wood! Aaaaaaannnnd - Potter!"

The crowd roared as they flew into the air. Many of them gasped at the sight of Harry, who as a first-year, was the youngest seeker in over a century.

"Now... here comes Slytherin in green and silver! Flint! Pucey! Malfoy! Derrick! Bole! Bletchley! Aaannd - Higgs!"

Just like that, he saw her. A flash of platinum blonde hair, she shot across the Slytherin side of the field towards the half-line. The green and silver section went positively bananas.

"MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY!" They chanted and cheered, while the lions booed and hissed with vehemence.

"See that?" Fred hollered at Harry as they circled their side of the pitch. "She is their fucking _god_."

He wanted to ask why, but Madame Hooch arrived to start the game. The two teams converged in the middle, the two captains dismounting to shake each other's hands.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you." She warned, as Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint tried to break each other's fingers. Then she gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

"And they're off! The Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor," Lee Jordan did not sound very sorry at all, "And she's really belting up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson – no wait, it's been stolen by Malfoy!"

The Gryffindors groaned.

"Third-year Chaser Celine Malfoy zips down the lane – last year she rocketed into the spotlight with three stunning performances, scoring an average of 160 points by _herself_, not including assists. Two of those games Slytherin won despite the opposing team catching the Snitch."

Harry blinked. 160 points? Did he hear correctly?

"Malfoy to Pucey – then to Flint, back to Malfoy – dodges one, two bludgers sent from the Weasley twins – fakes out Spinnet – now there's only Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood to defend – she shoots, she SCORES!"

Lee Jordan's amplified voice was barely heard above the roars and chants of Salazar's house - "MALFOY MALFOY MALFOY"

As he floated above the fray in search of the Snitch, Harry shook his head in disappointment. Now he knew what was troubling Wood earlier. But as the Seeker, he knew there was only one thing he could do to stop Malfoy. All he had to do was find a tiny golden ball.

XXX

Forty minutes had passed, and it was not looking good for the Gryffindors. One look at the scoreboard had Harry wincing:

Slytherin 190

Gryffindor 60

Malfoy was almost unstoppable. Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet tried to double-team her, but that only left Pucey and Flint wide open. Fred and George's bludgers were too slow for her. And Wood – the defeated look in his eyes every time she scored again and again. It was a sorry sight.

"Malfoy up the side again – she ducks under a bludger – flips it to Flint who tosses it right back at her – she swerves in between Johnson and Bell – and corkscrews right into a perfect Porskoff Ploy – Pucey picks it up and he's wide open! He shoots – Wood deflects – but Malfoy is already in position – and it's Slytherin at 200!"

"Potter, if you don't catch the snitch now, you might as well go home!" taunted Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, as the two fought for positioning and vision of the field.

Meanwhile, Flint and Malfoy flew back past them. As she passed him, their eyes met, hers dancing with mirth.

"Youngest seeker in a century eh? Means nothing if you can't fly, Potter."

Harry's face felt hot with embarrassment.

George Weasley floated near him, his beater bat wobbling in frustration. "Ignore that bitch. You see Harry, when you have 6 years more training than everyone else, a rich dad, and a custom made broom, it doesn't take much to demolish enemy teams playing on Cleansweeper 7s."

Harry knew that he would have to find the Snitch, and fast. They were above by 140 points - if Slytherin scored again, even catching the Snitch would not allow Gryffindor to win. But there was no sign of the little golden ball.

Suddenly, his broom jerked. He tightened his grip, his heart racing.

"It's Johnson – back to Spinnet – let's see if they can score this time – come on ladies!"

His broom jerked again, then shot sideways. Thrown off balance, Harry's leg was stuck under the broom in an awkward position. And then it began to wobble.

At this point, most of the people in the crowd began murmuring and pointing at Harry, who was swerving erratically like a wild elephant. The nearby players edged away from him, afraid that he would hit them on accident.

"Spinnet throws the Quaffle to Bell, who... stops moving? What is going – oh fuck! Sorry professor - the Gryffindor Seeker seems to have lost control of his broom!"

With another jerk, Harry was thrown off his broom – now he was dangling by one hand – it was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer...

At that moment, a bludger slammed into Harry's head.

People screamed. The announcer was screaming for help.

He was holding onto nothing. His heart felt as if it was leaping out of his body, as he began freefalling from 300 feet in the air.

No thoughts ran through his dazed mind. Just the ground coming up – coming up – it would swallow him into the darkness...

And then an overwhelming force hit him – but not from the ground – he was no longer free-falling but now he was on a broom – it wasn't his, it was somebody else's. And there was somebody else on the broom with him.

A strand of blonde hair brushed past his face.

He was now wide alert. Two firm, feminine arms were wrapped around him, a soft body was pressed against him – they were both on her broom together, and it was shooting sideways towards the ground at over a hundred miles an hour – she was trying desperately to pull it up, but it could not support their weight, they were 20 feet from the ground, 10 feet, 5 feet.

Milliseconds before they hit the ground, Harry pulled his savior to him and threw both of them sideways into the grassy pitch as the broom buried itself into the dirt. Using all his strength, he shielded her from the ground, holding her tightly as pieces of grass and dirt exploded all around them.

The last thought in his mind was that this was the first person he had ever hugged in his life.

The back of his head slammed against the ground and all was black.

XXX

Moments later, he woke up. The entire stadium was in chaos as all of the audience members were pouring onto the pitch. Teammates and professors were running up to them.

He was suddenly aware of the feminine – no, scratch that – extremely _female _body wrapped around him. Curves in places no man would have. And his arms held her tightly as well. Her face was buried below his shoulder, underneath a smattering of emerald and scarlet robes.

She shifted slightly, and then looked up at him, her blue eyes tired. He smiled weakly.

"Malfoy."

"...Potter."

"You didn't have to save me."

A pause. "I suppose I just felt bad for you. 11 years old, just made it to the house team, and then gets killed on the first match."

"I'm sure there would have been a giant party thrown in Slytherin in my honor."

She snorted. "Don't think so highly of yourself. You're an awful Seeker."

"Okay." Harry was too tired to feel annoyed.

She shifted a little, nestling her head into his shoulder, exhausted. Adjusting for the weight, Harry moved his hand up the back of her neck, where it was lost underneath long, straight brushes of soft, silky hair.

And then he felt something solid. Something round.


	4. Not Very Epic At All

**Omake: Celine Malfoy is a Mary Sue**

The Great Hall was quiet as Celine Malfoy walked into the room. Forks and spoons clattered to their plates as all the students, save Harry, widened their eyes in amazement at the sight of this _perfection_. She was more beautiful than a Veela, an angel, and Beyonce combined into one person.

"I have been sent here from Mt. Olympia to aid Harry Potter in his quest to find the Seven Horcruxes of Lord Voldemort." The crowd gasped. "He is the only boy in this entire school who can resist my attractiveness."

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was furious. "How dare Zeus and the Olympians interfere with the lives of us mortals? Go back to where you came from, you are not welcome here. I have my own special plans for little Harry." He revealed as he massaged his crotch with one hand. "They include keeping him innocent like the baby Jesus until we are ready to sacrifice him to Lord Voldemort."

A tense silence swept over the room. Ron Weasley fidgeted.

Finally, Celine spoke. "Very well," she took out a 50 foot staff, "I have no choice but to fight you for the love of my life!"

The two of them began dueling to the death, but it was clear that Albus Dumbledore was no match for the blonde sorceress. Minutes later, Dumbledore slumped over his plate of hash browns, broccoli hearts, a side of strawberry jam and a cappuchino. Mocha-flavored, for those of discerning taste.

"Now, where is Harry Potter?" Celine asked the shell-shocked students. "The first order from King Zeus is that I have to give him a blowjob. For medical reasons, you know."

**A Battle of Wills**

**Chapter 4: Not Very Epic At All**

"WHAT?!" Flint was furious, "He practically found it _on_ _her_!"

Gryffindor 210

Slytherin 200

The scene before him was one for the ages. They were surrounded by the Professors McGonagall and Snape, Madame Hooch and Madame Pomfrey. Flint paced around in anger, while Snape stood behind him, emotionless. The rest of the students wanted a closer look, but were held back by the prefects.

The entire school of Hogwarts had their attention focused on the scene before them.

Nearby, Celine Malfoy stood amongst her friends, conversing and shooting him dirty looks. He would never forget the look of enraged shock when she realized he had found the snitch underneath her mane of blonde hair. "_You bastard!_"

He pretended not to notice, as Madame Pomfrey bustled about, running diagnostic spells and applying salves at various places. "Quite a few bruises on your upper back and shoulders, a cracked rib on your right side – don't move! You're staying in the hospital tonight, young man. You're lucky the injures weren't more severe."

"DAMN RIGHT HE'S LUCKY!" Flint yelled.

XXX

Over the next few weeks, Harry did not see much of either Malfoy at all. Draco glared at him whenever their paths crossed, but did not sling any of his usual taunts. Meanwhile, Celine did not even look at him. For a while, she did not look much at anyone.

He almost felt bad for her. He heard that after the match, many Slytherins ceased being friends with her because she had saved his life, and as a consequence, cost her team the game. Of course, her actions _did _earn the house of Salazar 100 points from Dumbledore. So maybe that was a consolation prize, depending on who you spoke to.

The rest of his first year passed without much encounter with either Malfoy. He, Ron, and Hermione got caught up with trying to figure out what was under the trap door in the third-floor corridor. At first they suspected Snape, but when he reached the final room, it turned out to be Professor Quirrell. Behind Quirrell's turban was the shade of Voldemort, who fled as soon as Harry overpowered the Defense Professor with the power of his mother's undying love.

He was hospitalized however, and was unable to participate in the final match of the season, which featured Gryffindor vs. Slytherin again in an epic showdown. Only, it was not very epic at all, as Celine exacted her vengeance on the Gryffindors by scoring 270 points, leading to a final score of 540-180. The Weasley twins told Harry that after the game, Wood refused to leave the shower for several hours.

Nevertheless, they had a pleasant surprise when Headmaster Dumbledore awarded Gryffindor 170 bonus points, for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville's bravery in stopping Quirrell. The look on Draco Malfoy's face was priceless.

XXX

Sitting on the train back home with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, Harry felt a sense of relief and happiness. He had survived his first year, his first encounter with Lord Voldemort, and the end-of-year finals. While they would not receive their results until the middle of summer, Flitwick notified Harry in private that he had scored 130% on the Charms exam.

"I still can't believe it was Quirrell the entire time," said Ron, "and we even tried to defend him!"

Harry agreed. "We all thought it was Snape. Actually, something I haven't told you guys yet is, remember that first Quidditch match vs. Slytherin?"

They nodded.

"Turns out, when my broom was being cursed, it was Quirrell who was actually trying to kill me."

Hermione gasped. "What! We all thought it was Snape! I was on my way to stop him when you fell."

"I appreciate that, Hermione." Harry had a grim smile on his face. "But Quirrell told me before I... killed him, that Snape, was in fact trying to save me. He was uttering the counter-curse."

His friends were shocked. "S-snape was trying to _save _you?" sputtered Neville.

Harry nodded. "Cursing a magical broomstick to behave like that is extremely dark magic. Snape was most likely the only person in that crowd, who would know the counter-curse, since Dumbledore was absent."

There was an extended silence, as the four of them pondered what had happened.

Hermione sat back, her eyes wide. "Wait a second. If Quirrell was cursing your broom, and Snape was uttering the counter-curse, then that means there is another person involved in those last few moments when you fell off your broom, Harry."

"What do you mean?" Asked Ron.

Hermione bit her lip nervously. "I'm not too familiar with the game of Quidditch, but once Harry's broom started to buckle like crazy, efforts were made by both teams to stop the game. This meant, Katie Bell stopped moving the Quaffle. George Weasley snatched one of the bludgers and pinned it down. So did Lucian Bole, one of the Slytherin beaters."

"WHAT?" Ron shouted, causing everyone to jump. "Sorry."

"This entire time, I thought that the extra bludger was part of the curse, which we initially believed to be Snape's doing. But it's _not_. The third bludger, it came out of _nowhere_. Someone must have released it while Harry was about to fall off!"

"I didn't know the bludgers were secured." Harry said quietly.

"It's standard procedure." Ron said. "The Chasers are expected to hold onto the Quaffle, while the Beaters are expected to prevent the Bludgers from killing everyone."

"S-so, someone else in the school, someone we haven't identified yet, released that bludger?" Neville asked. "Maybe it was one of the Malfoys?"

"Neither of them could have done it." Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "Draco is in our year, and he's not that powerful. He fails at even the basic Transfiguration exercises, from what I've heard from Ravenclaws. And the sister, well, she saved Harry, remember?"

"Oh, right." Neville said, face turning red.

Ron frowned. "Maybe it was one of the older Slytherins. I mean, back during the war, most of the sixth and seventh Slytherin students were practically Death Eaters-in-training, Bill told me once."

Suddenly, their compartment door burst open.

"What the hell!" Ron shouted, as the four friends jumped up to see who it was. "You! What do you want?!"

To their surprise, both Malfoys stood at the entrance to their compartment. Celine Malfoy had already changed into her civilian clothes – a silver-emblazoned white dress which made her look even more stunning than usual. Next to her, a sullen Draco Malfoy stared at the ground, refusing to look at any of them. By the looks of it, his older sister had dragged him here.

"Potter." She cast a disdainful glance at the other members of the compartment. "My lovely little brother here needs to tell you something."

"I'm not saying anything, especially to _him_." Draco said, still staring at the ground.

"No? Then I will. Remember our first match, Potter, and the bludger that hit you? It was sent by a house-elf. Specifically, _our _house-elf, Dobby."

"Huh?" Harry blinked. "What's a house-elf?"

"Tsk, tsk, I expected better of you, Potter. A house-elf is a minor demon spirit that serves wizards," Celine said, "They are infused with special magical powers. I would imagine that the Potter household had one at some point, before You-Know-Who almost wiped them off the face of the earth."

"So is there any purpose to you telling me this besides reminding me that I have no parents?"

She sneered. "I wouldn't waste my time. Fortunately, my little brother here hates you so much that he ordered our house-elf to charm that bludger into killing you."

"I didn't give the order to _kill_ him!" Draco protested, "I just told _it _to give Potter a hard time. How the hell was I supposed to know that Quirrell was trying to off Potter?"

Celine smacked him upside the head, causing him to yelp. "Apologize now. You're embarrassing yourself."

He looked as if he wanted to argue more, but her gaze was terrifying. "Fine. Potter, I'm sorry." He spat bitterly.

"It's alright, Malfoy," said Harry, although he still could not believe this was happening, "I won't hold it against you."

"Fuck you, Potter." He stomped off, leaving Celine smirking in his wake.

"Well, that was fun. Have a good summer, Potter. I expect my brother will be even more unpleasant to be in class with next year." She turned to walk away. "Oh, and do take care of yourself. Merlin only knows what might happen if I'm not around to save you."

Then she sauntered off, leaving three goggling boys and one girl who rolled her eyes.

"Blimey, mate, I think she really likes you," Ron said, "She's even planning on saving you again."

Harry scoffed. "I don't think so. I think she derives some sort of sick pleasure from seeing me and Draco go at each other. Live entertainment is in short supply when you're a rich bitch who's given anything you want, I'd imagine."

"Well... I think she's pretty," said Neville, out of the blue. Harry and Ron both nodded immediately.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "All you boys care about are looks. Malfoy _is _pretty, but she's also a spoiled attention-seeker. She treats people like they're beneath her, just like her brother. She might be smarter, but that only makes her more of a threat to you, Harry. People are trying to kill you, and she's one of the most dangerous of all."

"Yeah, you're right." Harry said, knowing that there would be no end in sight if they allowed Hermione to ascend the bully pulpit.

XXX

YEAR ONE END


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